


Better Late Than Never

by cindergal



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: 1970s, F/M, Humor, London, Time Travel, UST, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 13:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10742241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cindergal/pseuds/cindergal
Summary: Spike and Buffy travel back to 1976 London to retrieve a magical artifact that may stop Glory.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dettiot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/gifts).



> Importing some old fic from LJ. This was originally finished 6/2010.

"Oops!"

Willow coughed, eyes watering, and backed quickly away from the stove as the smoke alarm began to shriek. Xander grabbed a towel, waving it around like he was flagging down a plane. While this series of events didn't exactly inspire confidence, Buffy still found Spike's reaction a little extreme.

"Oops? Did you say _oops?_ " Spike didn't move from his spot in the doorway, but his loom was rather impressively threatening, Buffy thought. If you were into that kind of thing.

Willow laughed nervously. "It's...it's a tricky spell. Time travel is hard enough. I've got to send you 'cross the pond, too." 'Cross the pond' was said in a really terrible British accent which made Giles wince and caused Spike to clench his fists at his sides.

"I thought you knew what the hell you were doing! We'll be lucky if we don't end up in the middle of the bloody Atlantic!"

Willow bit her bottom lip and looked to Tara, who was trying her very best to become one with the wall. "We'll f...fix it, Spike. Don't worry," Tara said. She scooted over to Willow's side and put a supportive hand on her shoulder.

Giles removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Check the ingredients again, Tara. There may have been a small error in translation..."

"That could send us into the bloody ice age if you aren't more careful!"

Giles sighed the sigh of a man who really wished he wasn't the one in charge right now.

Anya stood on her tiptoes and looked over Giles shoulder at the spell book. "I think Giles is right. If you'll double check your amounts, the eye of bat measurement may be off by a factor of ten. The words in Aramaic are similar. It's a rather common error."

"Right," Willow said, ears turning as red as her hair. She opened a cupboard door and began rummaging through it.

"You keep the eye of bat in the kitchen?" Xander asked.

"Right next to the paprika," Buffy said brightly. "Oh come on, there's blood in the refrigerator, you should be used to it by now."

"Remind me not to have dinner here. Ever. Again," Xander said.

Spike began pacing, which was quite a feat in a small kitchen filled with seven people. "How the BLOODY HELL I ever got myself mixed up with you lot..."

"Calm down, Spike. Willow knows what she's doing. Stop overreacting." Buffy hoped she sounded more convinced of this than she actually was. 'Oops' plus 'magic' equaled a very worried Buffy. And a freaked out Spike wasn't helping matters.

"I am bloody calm!"

"Why don't we _all_ go into the living room and let Willow and Tara do their thing?" she suggested. She grabbed Spike's arm on her way out the door, and he gave only token resistance before following her.

"Would it really be so bad to be trapped in the 70's?" Xander asked. Spike gave him a withering look. "Right. Bell bottoms. Disco. Tricky Dick. It would be bad. It would be very bad."

"Besides, you don't have to go," Buffy said, for the zillionth time. And she meant it. She'd actually feel better if he stayed back here and watched over Dawn and the others. He and Willow were the only ones who even stood a chance against Glory, and when it came to protecting her sister, he was her first choice. Not that she'd tell _him_ that. Or anyone else. Admitting it to herself had been difficult enough.

Spike's eyes narrowed, and he practically growled at her. "Already told you, I'm goin'. I know the place, an' I know the time. An' I'm not lettin' you go it alone." He didn't often use that tone with her anymore, and she would have called him on it if he hadn't turned his head right then, giving her an excellent view of his still puffy eye, courtesy of one pissed off hell god, which was now turning interesting shades of green and purple. She let it go.

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his head fall back to bang against the wall. "If we only had a TARDIS," he said.

"A what?" Buffy asked.

Giles chuckled. "That would come in rather handy about now."

"What's a tar dish?"

" _TARDIS_ ," Giles enunciated, with infinite patience. "It's a sort of...space ship..."

"Time machine..." Spike added.

"Exactly," they said at the same time. Giles and Spike, speaking as one. Buffy's world nearly tilted off its axis. She'd be sure to worry about that later.

She looked hopefully to Xander for an interpretation.

" _Doctor Who._ British TV show," he supplied helpfully. "Would you like character analyses? Important plot points, maybe?"

"If it's something you three like? I'm thinking no."

Giles sighed again, while Spike muttered something about culturally deprived Americans and ran his fingers through his hair - which didn't need to stick up any more, really, after all the abuse it had taken today. Though she actually kind of preferred it this way to his usual slicked back look and when did she start having a preference as to how Spike wore his _hair_?

Buffy shook her head. "You know, sometimes you two are just so, so..."

"English?" Anya offered.

"Exactly." It wasn't like she was thrilled with the idea of traveling back in time, either. With Spike, of all people. But if what Giles had discovered was true, they might be able to find the Asirra crystal, the one thing that might help stop Glory, and the last of which had been destroyed in a bombing circa 1977 London. It was worth the risk if it would save her sister. She looked up at Dawn, who was now bounding puppy-like down the stairs, holding a bottle of nail polish aloft.

"Found it!"

"Stole it, don't you mean?" Spike asked. But his tone was teasing, and Dawn laughed and blushed.

"Borrowed! I just...forgot to tell you. Sorry! It did win me points at Becky Anderson's sleepover, though. She's the one I told you about, remember? With the..." She lowered her voice. "...you know. And the thing."

Spike nodded, eyes alight with recognition. "Oh, right." He smirked. "Can have anything you want of mine, if it'll help put that stuck up little bitch in her place."

"Spike!"

He gave Buffy a sheepish look. "Er, stealing is bad? And...um... we should all just try to get along?"

Buffy shook her head. Such a bad influence. But while she had no idea what "the thing" was and probably didn't want to know, he did have a point - from what Buffy knew of her, Becky Anderson really was a stuck up little bitch. She watched as he sat down on the sofa and held his hands out patiently for Dawn so she could paint his short, surprisingly clean fingernails. The black polish contrasted starkly with the whiteness of his skin. He looked at her from beneath his dark brows. "You're next, Slayer."

She looked down at her own hands. "I already have nail polish."

"Sorry. Where we're going, Misty Mauve just won't do."

Buffy had little time to wonder how he knew the exact name of her nail polish color before Anya was putting her two cents in. Though with Anya it was more like a quarter.

"Really Buffy, your outfit is all wrong too. You don't look like 70's punk at all. You look like, like...oh honey, what's that movie you like, with the water, and the lobster? You know. The one that gets you all..."

"Ah, yes. _Flashdance_ ," Xander said immediately, a rather wistful tone to his voice.

"Yes. You look like that girl from _Flashdance._ At least a decade too late." She shook her head sadly.

Buffy tugged at her sweatshirt self-consciously. She'd cut it up herself. It hung artfully off one shoulder.

"All you need is leg warmers," Xander added.

She could feel her face turning red, and her lip jutting out in a pout despite her best intentions. Clothes were her thing, damn it! She was supposed to be _good_ at clothes.

"'S okay, pet. You look fetching as always. Skirt is good, too. The outfit just need a few adjustments, is all," Spike said gently. Sure, easy for him to say in his perfectly faded, ripped jeans and his studded belt and his gravity-defying hair. Still, it was nice of him to say. She gave him a grateful look. Oh God, she'd just given Spike a grateful look. And had thought he was nice. Could this day get any weirder? Oh God, now she'd gone and thought it. What next?

"Oh! I have just the thing!" Dawn said. She whispered something in Spike's ear, and he nodded his approval. Dawn grabbed Buffy's hand and dragged her upstairs. When they returned, her top had been replaced with a ratty white tank with a black lace bra underneath, sheer stockings had become black tights, and she sported a ridiculous studded leather collar borrowed from one of Dawn's old Halloween costumes. Buffy clumped across the room in a pair of combat boots which Dawn and her enormous feet had outgrown two years ago. They were surprisingly comfortable, but made her feet feel huge. Her eyes were lined heavily in black and her hair teased and sprayed within an inch of its life.

"Better?" Buffy asked, hands on hips, daring them to criticize.

Anya scanned her from head to toe. "Better, but there's still something not quite...Spike, you're the expert. What do you think?"

Spike reached over, fingertips skimming up over her knee, and before she had a chance to kill him for feeling her up, he'd torn a gaping hole in her tights.

"There you are," he said, sitting back on the sofa, a satisfied look on his face.

Anya nodded her approval. "Much better."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Buffy travel back to 1976 London to retrieve a magical artifact that may stop Glory.

Spike's lighter flared in the darkness, bringing his face into sharp relief. The black lining his eyes made the blue bluer, and full, red lips pursed almost obscenely around the cigarette as he lit it, hollowing out his cheeks. Why did evil have to look so pretty, Buffy had time to wonder, before the lighter snapped close and she was left with just the glow from the tip of his cigarette and the light of the half-moon. Nearby, Willow, Tara and Giles were preparing the backyard for their imminent departure.

"Still scared?" Buffy asked him. Just to see what he'd say.

Spike growled at her around his cigarette. "M'not _scared._ I'm the one who does the scarin', remember? Big, scary vampire." He snatched the cigarette from his lips and blew smoke out his nose like a fire breathing dragon.

Buffy looked him up and down. "You're more of a medium-sized scary vampire," she mused. She hardly had to crane her neck at all to look into his eyes. "And let's be honest - not that scary."

He glared and her, but as he stuck the cigarette back between his lips, she was sure she saw them quirk up at the corners.

"Just don't like magic," he said, after a moment. "Never have - too unpredictable."

The night air was getting chilly, and Buffy rubbed her bare arms and stomped her giant boots to warm herself. The boots were kind of growing on her, even if she did look a little silly. She imagined kicking a demon with those things. Pow. "So why did you volunteer?" She knew he'd do pretty much anything to be near her, but not this. He was truly uncomfortable with this whole time travel thing. She'd never seen him so nervous before. "Want to save the world again? For, what was it? Manchester somebody? And dog fighting?"

He snorted. "Could give a damn about the world. It's for the Little Bit, yeah?" He lowered his voice. "Buffy, we can't let that, that _bitch_ hurt her..."

"I know," Buffy said, suppressing an urge to reach out and pat his arm. "We won't." She smiled to herself. He was still doing it for a girl. Big, scary, sappy vampire.

Giles was summoning them to the back porch now, one more team meeting, one more time going over the details. Spike was surprisingly patient, given that Giles was asking him for the umpteenth time whether he was _sure_ he wasn't in London during 1976 because of the potential danger of his present and former selves meeting up. He only insulted Giles a little.

"What, gettin' forgetful in our old age, are we Watcher? Like I told you before, was in New York, '76 and '77 both."

Hunting a slayer, Buffy knew. Hunting her down and eventually killing her. It was hard to believe _that_ guy was the one sitting next to her, the same one who'd nearly died for her sister and was now volunteering to risk his life again. But Spike _was_ that guy, and she couldn't let herself forget it.

"Buffy, are you clear on what you need to do?"

"I think so. There's a club in Soho - Spike knows where - and the owner's name is...Tony?"

"Toby, pet."

"Toby, right. The club is a front for the trade of magical objects. We think he has the Asirra crystal."

Dawn made a squeak. "Wait a minute - we think?"

"We are ninety-nine point nine percent sure based on Giles impeccable research skills, yes." Buffy smiled at her. "Don't worry. This is going to work."

"And how _does_ it work again?"

Willow looked to Buffy for permission, then ran her finger down a yellowed page of text. "Legend has it that the Asirra crystal will absorb the powers of a god and make them mortal."

"And therefore killable!" Anya added. "Because mortals are weak and vulnerable." She frowned. "God, it's depressing."

Xander patted Anya's knee, putting his other arm around Dawn to give her a little squeeze. "It's like... hell god Kryptonite."

"Er, yes. That's exactly how it should work," Giles agreed.

Spike raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Should? Not sure I like all the 'shoulds' and 'we thinks’ you all are floatin' about," he said, waving his hand in the air.

Giles smiled tightly. "So sorry, Spike. Despite my advanced age, I wasn't actually _present_ when the gods last walked the earth.”

Spike snorted and lit another cigarette.

Buffy gave Spike her best shut the hell up or I will _so,_ stake you stare. " _Anyway,_ we are going to buy the crystal and then skedaddle back home with it. Easy as pie. Except for the whole crossing the space/time continuum part, which is not very pie-like."

"Why buy it? Can nick it just as easy. Easier." He picked some polish off his fingernail. "Get in, get out, no fuss, no muss."

"You would suggest stealing, klepto guy."

"Hey!"

She shrugged. "If the sweater fits..."

Spike's wince was so small she barely caught it, which somehow made her feel even worse. That pang of guilt stabbing her in the chest was so, so disturbing given that she was gazing at a mass-murdering vampire and at the same time noticing the sad, hurt look in his eyes. "Spike..."

"I have every confidence that once you get there, you'll assess the situation and decide on the most appropriate method of obtaining the crystal," Giles said quietly. "But if you need to," he said, leaning forward, "pinch it and get the bloody hell out of there."

A slow smile spread across Spike's face. "Now that sounds like a plan. You're alright there, Watcher."

"Excuse me?" Tara called from the yard. "We really should get going."

Spike still sat there on the steps, even after everyone else had gotten up and left.

"Change your mind?" Buffy asked.

"No, 'course not. Just finishing up." He held up the stub of his cigarette, then threw it down and ground it out with his boot as he stood. "Let's get this over with."

"No time like the present!"

Spike shook his head and sighed. "You're a laugh a minute, Slayer."


	3. Better Late Than Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Buffy travel back to 1976 London to retrieve a magical artifact that may stop Glory.

The concoction that had been brewing in the kitchen was now a powder that was making Buffy sneeze as Giles poured it in a circle around the two of them. Willow handed Buffy a zip lock bag containing more powder and the spell, written out phonetically. "Return ticket," she said. Buffy looked down at her tiny outfit.

"I seem to be pocket-challenged," she said.

"Allow me," Spike offered. She handed it over and he tucked it into an inside pocket of his jacket. He was wearing a short leather motorcycle jacket which Buffy had to admit she liked a lot better than that stupid duster. Not so much with the dramatic swirling, true, but it had lots of cool buckles and zippers. Plus, much better view of that red tag on his Levis. She felt her forehead. Nope, no fever.

"You should probably hold hands," Willow added. "There may be a _slight_ gravitational pull. I wouldn't want one of you to be flung off course."

Buffy thought of complaining, just to keep up appearances, but Spike was already eyeing her warily even as he held out his hand, waiting for it. So instead, she slid her hand into his without comment. Somewhere along the line, hurting his feelings for sport had lost its charm.

"Don't you make a cute little punk couple!" Anya said. Xander rolled his eyes, and Buffy fought the urge to tear her hand out of Spike's grasp. That was their cover story, after all. And to be honest, she was glad to have someone to hold onto herself. His grip was solid, his hand cool and dry and comforting as his fingers curled around hers.

"Buffy'll need to channel Meryl Streep to pull that kind of acting performance off," Xander said. Spike growled under his breath, and Buffy found herself unconsciously squeezing his hand. He raised an eyebrow and she looked away.

"I think we're about ready to go, Dawn."

"All ready?" She chewed nervously on her bottom lip.

"We'll be back in a tick, Little Bit. One advantage of time travel."

“Right.” Buffy reached out and smoothed her hand over Dawn’s hair. “It’ll be almost like we never even left. Except next time you see me, I’ll have that magic doodad with me.”

"Really?" Dawn asked. "They'll come right back?"

"They should," Giles said. "Within a few moments. Willow will be using a spell to send them to a specific time and place. But the return spell is a simple reversal that will send them back to their original time and location, no matter how much time they spend in London."

"Cool!" Dawn grinned. "I won't even have time to worry!"

"Okay then. Any questions?" Willow asked.

"Just make sure we don't arrive at high noon, yeah?"

"Yeah, we don't want Spike flambé. It might cause a scene," Buffy added.

Willow assured them that they would arrive after sundown. She was pretty sure. Almost certain. Buffy glanced at Spike, watching a muscle twitch in his jaw, as Willow began to chant.

*Viaticus olim. Chronos, god of time, guide them safely to their destination. Viaticus olim. Viaticus olim...*

Willow's voice faded away, but the sensation Buffy felt next was not what she expected. She thought time travel would be more...violent, she supposed. Images flashing before her eyes, like the beginning of that old Twilight Zone show that Xander loved to watch. Instead, everything went white, then pitch black, and it felt like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs as the ground fell away beneath her feet. Spike was clutching her hand - or she was clutching his - and she couldn't see a thing. She concentrated on not letting go.

"Oi! Watch where the bloody hell you're going!"

Buffy started as a horn blared and the world slammed into focus. A driver was very close, too close, leaning out the window to yell at them as Spike pulled her back from the curb. At least he was yelling in an English accent. A good sign, she thought. And the cars were on the wrong - or right - side of the road. She looked up at Spike for his reaction. He blinked and looked around, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. And then he started laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Do you know where we are, love?" They were at the intersection of several busy streets coming together.

"London, hopefully?"

Spike nodded. "St. Giles Circus, specifically. Bloody Watcher."

"St. _Giles_?" He nodded again, smiling down at her, and it was then she realized she still had a death grip on his hand. She pulled hers away quickly. "Giles has hidden stores of irony, who knew? But we should probably make sure we're in the right year before we go appreciating him too much."

"Right." Spike grabbed a newspaper from a nearby trashcan and showed her the date.

She exhaled in relief. "Right city, right year. Now we have to find the right pub." Buffy was anxious to get the crystal and get out of there. As much as she'd always wanted to visit London, this was not really what she had in mind.

"Slow down, pet. Give us a moment to get our bearings. Make sure we're on the same page and all."

"I'm on the let's-get-that-crystal-and-go-home page. How about you?"

"Worried about little sis, yeah?" His eyes were sympathetic.

"Yeah." She blinked several times. She really did not want to smear her eye liner by crying. Although, looking around at some of the other girls, that might actually add authenticity.

“In her time, you’re already back there with her,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm.

“I...I forgot about that." She cleared her throat. “But still, there’s no sense wasting time. So what was the name of the pub?"

His hand fell away from her arm. "The Slaughtered Lamb."

"The _Slaughtered Lamb_? Oh, cheerful."

Spike shrugged. "At least I'll be able to get a real pint there and not that swill you call beer in the States."

They set off for the pub with Spike leading the way. He promised it wasn't too long a walk, and she was quickly caught up in the bustle of the unfamiliar city. She'd never spent much time in big cities before, except for LA - and this was a far cry from the sunny City of Angels.

The streets were crowded, and Buffy lost Spike for a few moments while she was busy looking around. It was all clubs and pubs and shops with weird clothing in the windows. It looked and smelled and sounded different than any place she'd ever been before, and her body tingled with adrenaline. When she finally caught up with Spike he was leaning in a doorway, talking to a girl who was offering him a cigarette. She hoped that girl was a vampire or a demon so she could kick her ass, especially when she saw the way she was looking at Spike - like she wanted to eat him with a spoon. But Spike's eyes lit up when he saw her, and Buffy tried not to take too much pleasure in the girl's disappointed expression as Spike brushed past her and offered Buffy his arm.

To her surprise, she took it.

"Don't worry, pet. Just can't find my smokes and the bird was willing to oblige."

"Who said I was worried? And if I was worried, it would be about you and some...some _obliging_...bint. Whatever that means."

"Of course not," Spike said, obviously trying not to smile.

"Shut up, Spike."

"Right. So, anyhow, how are you enjoying the sights, pet? Bit overwhelming, innit?" He was soaking in everything as well, and obviously enjoying what he was seeing.

"You could say that." She grinned. "I guess we're not in Kansas anymore."

Spike grinned back, snatching the cigarette from his lips and blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. "Welcome to London, Buffy." He replaced the cigarette, shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled along the sidewalk, Buffy's arm still tucked into his. With every step he seemed to regain a little of the swagger he had lost over the last couple of years. It was a little...disconcerting.

"Over here, pet," Spike said, swerving sharply to his left and nearly knocking over someone in his rush. The guy looked ready for a fight, raising his fists and shouting a string of expletives at Spike. Spike grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shoved him back against a building. “Sod off!” Buffy heard his head crack against the brick.

"Spike!" Buffy pulled him off the guy and the man staggered for a moment, holding the back of his head before running off. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re like a rabid dog. Chill!”

"Right. Sorry.” He pressed his hand to his temple. The chip must have twinged a little. Good. “Uh, think it's down this way."

They turned down another street, and Buffy saw the place before Spike did, a slavering wolf's head painted on a wooden sign above the door.

"Now that really says welcome."

Spike threw his cigarette down and ground it out before opening the door for her and stepping aside to let her in. His way of shifting back and forth from rude and crude to a complete gentleman was going to give her whiplash.

She walked in and headed for the bar. Despite the name, the inside was just what she'd expected from an English pub. Lot of dark wood and leather and lots of ales being drunk. But it was fairly early in the evening, so it wasn’t that crowded yet.

"Want a pint, love?" Spike asked, sidling up next to her at the bar.

"No I do not want a pint. Or a quart. Or a half a gallon. No beer. Beer is...not good. No beer for Buffy."

Spike held his hands up in surrender. "No need to bite my head off. Just tryin’ to be sociable.”

"We're not here to socialize, Spike! This isn't a date!"

Spike looked around, apparently to see if anyone was listening. A couple of other people were glancing at them curiously after Buffy’s outburst. He stared up at the ceiling, shaking his head before he leaned in, mouth close to her ear so only she could hear. "Supposed to be fittin' in, yeah? We're a couple - that's our cover, remember? So you might try not shoutin' about how much you _can't stand me._ "

Buffy took a deep breath and felt her face get hot. He was right. She hated it when he was right. The bartender was on his way over, already asking her if everything was all right. People were still looking at them. She needed to fix this. Meryl Streep, she thought. Channel Meryl Streep. She looked up into Spike's face and smiled.

"Sorry, honey. Forgive me?" And she kissed his cheek. It was worth it just to see the shock on his face.

***

“I...I’m going to check another source,” Willow said, rushing back into the house with Tara close behind.

Dawn chewed on a thumbnail. “I thought you guys said they would be back right away?”

Anya patted Dawn’s shoulder awkwardly and made what she probably thought were soothing noises - which might have worked if Dawn was a toddler. But she tried to appreciate the gesture all the same. Xander was speaking to Giles in those low tones they all used around her whenever something went really wrong.

"It's been more than half an hour, man. Where the hell _are_ they?"

Giles stared down at the circle burnt into the ground and sighed. "Bugger."


	4. Better Late Than Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Buffy travel back to 1976 London to retrieve a magical artifact that may stop Glory.

Spike was still staring at her, mouth hanging open in shock. If a kiss on the cheek could have this effect, she wondered what he would do if she...no, better not go there. Buffy placed her hand under his chin and pushed his mouth closed. “Don’t look so surprised, honey.”

"Can’t help it. You’re full of surprises, aren't you?" he asked, voice all soft and sweet and awestruck and she hated when he did that.

She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks, and ducked her head so he couldn't see. They were just playing a part, she told herself. It was just that she was a really good actress. Meryl Streep...Meryl Streep...

“What’ll it be?” The bartender was still giving them the evil eye.

“Pint of Guinness, and for the lady...”

“Diet Coke, please,” Buffy said.

“A what?”

“A Coca-Cola,” Spike interjected. The bartender shrugged and grabbed two glasses from behind the bar.

“Few years too early for Diet Coke, pet,” Spike said under his breath.

“Oops?” This whole fitting in thing was not going so well.

Spike took a wad of bills out of his pocket and threw a few on the bar. “Keep the change.”

The bartender grinned, surprised. “Ta, mate!”

Something wasn‘t right, here. “Hey wait a minute, where did you get all the funny looking money?” She grabbed it out of Spike’s hands. It was multi-colored and had a picture of the Queen on it. “You stole this from that guy on the street, didn’t you!”

“Shhh!” Spike retrieved the money and stuck it back in his coat pocket. “Couldn’t very well pay for drinks with American money from twenty-some years in the future, now could I?”

“I suppose not,” Buffy huffed. “But I still don’t like it.”

“Well, then you can yell at the watcher when we get back. Was his idea.”

“It was not!”

Spike nodded. “Oh yes it was. Good one, too. I’m gainin’ a new appreciation for the man as of late.”

“Yeah, because he keeps telling you to steal things!” Buffy shook her head.

“He’s just bein’ practical. Oughta try it sometime.” He motioned for the bartender, who was no longer looking at them funny since Spike gave him that big tip. “Toby around?” he asked.

‘Haven’t seen him tonight. Should be in later, though.”

“Let us know when he get’s here?”

The bartender nodded and went back to wiping down the bar.

"Did I hear you say you were looking for Toby?" asked a man out of nowhere. He was thin and dark-haired, and though he looked pretty young, the way he spoke made him seem older. Like he was the one in charge. He lay his hand on Spike's shoulder, but Spike turned sharply, effectively brushing it off. He gave the stranger an obvious once over. To the guy's credit, he didn't flinch. "Name's...Will," Spike said, sticking out his hand. "This is my girl, Buffy."

"Charmed," he said, as if he was anything but. "Are you two here for business or pleasure?"

"Business," Spike said, "though we wouldn't say no to a bit of both. Isn't that right, pet?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say. _Honey_.”

“You Toby?”

“No. Toby is unavailable at the moment, but I have full authority to operate on his behalf. What can I do for you?”

“We hear that you do trade in magical objects,” Buffy said, keeping her voice low. "We're looking for the Asirra crystal."

"I see. Well, you're not the only ones."

"Really?" Buffy said. "Who else wants it?"

The man smiled coldly. "I am not at liberty to share information about other potential clients. Confidentiality is key in our business, as I’m sure you can appreciate. But why don't we step into the back and discuss the terms of the sale in private?”

"You his lawyer or something?" Spike asked.

"Or something."

"So, just to be clear - we have the cash, we get the goods, yeah?" Spike asked. Although it often annoyed her, right now Buffy was really appreciating his tendency to come right to the point.

The man nodded and gestured for them to follow. “I have no interest in who ultimately obtains the crystal. I only want to secure the best possible outcome for my client."

Buffy followed Spike, who followed the man into a storage room. It irked her to act the part of the good little girl, following along behind her man, but she supposed it was necessary. Plus, the view wasn't bad.

"I know you’re starin' at my ass," Spike tossed back over his shoulder in a stage whisper. What, did vampire powers include eyes in the back of their head, now?

“Am not!”

"Are too," he said, craning his neck to look at her and nearly running into the back of their guide when he stopped to unlock a door. "See, you're blushin'." He grinned lasciviously.

"You...shut up, you!" she said, as they entered the storage room in the back. She was about to say something much more witty - she would think of it any minute now - when the door slammed shut behind her, and the world went black.

***

Willow sat on the sofa, flipping through the spell book furiously. She'd done everything right. She was sure of it! Pretty darn sure.

"Tara?"

"You did everything right," Tara said. She rubbed Willow's shoulder, but it didn't have the soothing effect it normally did.

"It's the same in...in every book. The spell is exactly the same. And they did...disappear and everything. That part went right..."

Anya perched on the edge of the coffee table and held out her hand for the book, peering at the pages closely. "Did you look at the writing on the second page?" she asked, tapping the eraser end of a pencil thoughtfully against her chin.

"Second page? What second page? There is no second page!"

Giles peered over Anya's shoulder. His face fell. "There appears to be one line on the second page."

Anya squinted. "In the proverbial fine print. Easy to miss." She reached over and patted Willow's knee as Giles took the book from her.

Willow put her head in her hands. "I thought it was a smudge.“

“What does it say?" Tara asked, putting her arm around Willow.

Giles moved the book closer to his face, then further away, trying to read it. Glasses on. Glasses off...

"You know," Xander said, “I may not have superpowers or spell-casting ability, but I do have 20/20 vision.” Giles sighed and handed the book over.

"It says, ‘Caution: no personal items other than clothing will be transported.’" He handed the book back to Giles. "What does that mean?"

Willow paled. "It means that the powder and the piece of paper I gave them with the return spell written on it didn't go with them."

"You mean..." Xander started to say.

"Yup," Anya said. "Up a creek without a...spell.'

Giles took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Buffy and Spike have no way of getting home."

Tara looked horrified. "You mean..."

"Yes," Xander said gravely. "They're...stuck in the seventies. Dun, dun, dun!"

Willow slapped his arm. "This isn't funny you guys! How are we going to get them back?"

Xander's smile faded. "Wait...you're serious? You don't have another way to get them home?"

"They're not coming back?" Dawn asked. She stood up from her seat on the stairs, where she'd been hiding the entire time. Big, fat tears rolled down her face. "You have to get them back! I need them!” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “ I...I need them.“ Xander rushed to put his arms around her, and she turned her head into his chest.

“Don’t worry, Dawnie. We’ll figure something out. We always do. We’ll get them back,” he assured her.

“We’d better,” Anya said. “Or else who's going to fight Glory?"

***

Buffy woke up with a start, grabbing her head in pain. She had no idea what had happened, except that she had a really bad headache and from the feel of it, the worst bed head of her life. Damn, all that hairspray. "What the...?"

"My thoughts exactly, pet."

She rubbed her eyes, her vision slowly coming into focus. Spike was sitting on the floor, leaning against a brick wall and rubbing his own head. He apparently had a bad headache and major bed head, too. His looked good on him, though. Bastard.

She sat up quickly, immediately regretting it. "What happened?"

"Someone did some major mojo on us pet. That prat was no barrister, he was a sodding mage." Spike rubbed his head and winced. "Bloody powerful one, too. I wager we've been out for awhile."

"Well we're awake now. Let's get the heck out of here!" She stood up and took a quick step forward before she was immediately thrown backwards, landing on her butt on the hard stone floor.

"You seriously didn’t think I tried that already?"

"A force field?" She turned to Spike in disbelief. "We're actually trapped behind a force field."

Spike nodded, wincing slightly again. "Could call it that. Magical prison, of sorts."

"Well you could have told me before I bounced off it and landed on my ass!"

Spike grinned. "Yeah, but that wouldn‘t have been nearly as much fun."

“I’m happy to provide you with some amusement.”

“Sorry, love,” he said, though he so didn’t look it.

She considered telling him to stop calling her that, or perhaps punching him in the nose. Instead she flopped down next to him on the floor and sighed. "Well, this sucks."

"Indeed."

"Any idea where we are?"

He shook his head. "Nary a clue. Not in the Slaughtered Lamb any more, that's for certain."

“We’re definitely not in Kansas anymore, either."

"Well Dorothy, who am I, then? Your loyal dog Toto?"

"I'm thinking Scarecrow," she said. "You're definitely in need of a brain."

Spike sighed. "Yeah, well, we‘re definitely in need of some ruby slippers." He stood up and felt gingerly around the walls of their prison to determine their boundaries. The area was approximately ten by ten, two sides magical barrier, two sides brick wall. "Unless you've been studying defensive magic in your spare time, looks like our best bet's through this wall. Got any weapons hidden on you? Jack hammer? Nail file, maybe?"

Buffy shook her head. “All I‘ve got is my knife...” She felt inside her boot for the knife she had strapped to her ankle earlier. “Huh. I thought I had a knife.” She jumped to her feet. "But who needs weapons? I have my stompy boots!"

Spike nodded. "Good enough, Slayer. Let's give it a go."

The two of them raised their twin stompy boots in the air and were about to let loose with a tandem roundhouse kick when they heard a throat clearing behind them.

"I wouldn't if I were you," said the thin, dark-haired man, now known inside her head as evil magic guy.

"Wall's eight foot thick if it's an inch," said the man next to him. He plucked a cigarette out of his mouth and blew smoke in the air, all cool and leather jacket-y. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," he said with a sly grin.

"I doubt the Slayer and her pet vampire would hurt themselves," said evil magic guy. "It would take a lot more than that to hurt them, I'd imagine. And believe me, I have. But...it might sting a little."

Buffy felt sick to her stomach. They knew. They knew what she and Spike were.

Spike took a step forward, as close to the magical barrier as he could get without being zapped. "What's your game, mate? We came here to make a legitimate business transaction, and wake up here. What do you want? Money? We can pay."

Evil magic guy threw back his head and laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Isn't that rich? They think they're being held for ransom or some such nonsense! How...romantic."

Leather jacket guy didn't respond, just continued to gaze at them steadily, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He looked a little...bored.

"Then what _do_ you want?" Buffy asked, stepping up shoulder to shoulder with Spike. "There must be something. All you villainy types want something."

Evil magic guy stepped closer, until there were mere inches of air between them, shimmering with magic. "I've found a pretty little Slayer who seems to have somehow tamed the great William the Bloody to be her _errand boy._ " He grinned, teeth bared. "And she's asking what we _want_ with them, Ripper."

Buffy's heart dropped into her stomach. Ripper? A chill went down her spine. She had always thought that was just an expression, but it so, so wasn't. Buffy stared in disbelief, and those familiar eyes stared back with no trace of recognition. Or kindness. Nothing Giles-y at all. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no....

"It's like Ethan here's been trying to tell you, ducks." He threw his cigarette on the floor and ground it out with the toe of his boot. "We just want to have some fun."


	5. Better Late Than Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Buffy travel back to 1976 London to retrieve a magical artifact that may stop Glory.

"What do you think they want with us?" Ripper - she had to think of him that way or risk laughing (or crying) hysterically - and Ethan had gone, but she knew they'd be back, and the next time their weapons wouldn't be just vague threats and innuendo. She and Spike needed a plan. And currently she was completely plan-free. This whole thing with Giles (Ripper!) was really weirding her out.

Spike paced the invisible walls of their cell. "Don't know. What do you know about the Watcher from back then?"

She looked up at him from her seat on the floor. "He and Ethan were in some sort of club. They did a lot of dark magic. Summoned demons, even. Some people in their group died." A lump rose in her throat, remembering how difficult it had been for Giles to tell her about it. "This - now, I mean - must be before all that happened."

Spike patted his pockets, obviously looking for a cigarette. "Dammit! Thought sure I brought a pack with me. And where did I lose my sodding lighter...?"

"You probably left them in your other coat."

Spike resumed his pacing. "They'll be back 'fore we know it. What's your call, Slayer?"

"My call?" She kicked out at the invisible barrier, and it sparked with magic. "You mean, we have options?

He shrugged. "Could just go back. Red's spell might still work, even from in here."

She could not believe he'd just said that. "You seriously want to go back? Without the crystal? You want to give up on something that could save Dawn's life?"

Spike knelt down on one knee in front of her, lightly touching the back of her hand with his. "Didn't say I wanted to. Said it was an option."

"It is NOT an option."

Spike smiled, that rare, sweet smile that made her insides go all jiggly lately. Stupid insides. "That's my Slayer."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You think you know me so well." Spike just smirked. "Well then, Kreskin, why don't _you_ tell _me_ what my call is."

"Strategic planning, not exactly my strong suit..." he said, rocking back on his heels.

"You think?"

Spike leaned in close again, speaking soft and low and with all the sarcasm he could muster. "But since it's your beloved watcher, I reckon you'll want to try _reasoning_ with him first. Appeal to his sense of honor, that underlying tweedy streak." He grinned. "Am I close?"

Buffy couldn't help but smile back. "Smart ass."

He stood in one fluid motion, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. That was a very bad habit of his that she totally shouldn‘t find sexy. And didn't. Not at all. "Think that'll work?" he asked.

She sighed, holding her hand out and letting him pull her to her feet. "No. Well, Ethan won't listen to reason, I know that. Giles...I just don't know. I mean, if he hadn't told me himself, I never would've believed all the things he did back then. Now. Whatever. Anyway, I just hope I can get through to him."

Spike leaned against the brick wall next to her. "And if not?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "They know what we are; they're not going to let their guard down around us. And they've got all that heavy duty magic, and we...don't."

Spike shrugged. "You'll come up with something."

"I'm glad you're so confident."

"Slayer. You forget I've been on the other side of this equation a time or two."

"And yet, you're still here. Not living and not breathing."

He gave her a wry grin. "Barely. Because just when the Big Bad thinks the Slayer is done for is when you're most dangerous, love."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, William."

"And don't I know it."

***

"I'll have to go and get them." Willow opened the cupboard door and took out a half-full jar of powder. "This should be enough to get me there."

"But how will you g...get back?" Tara looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"I'll just have to make more when I'm there."

"But you don't know if you'll even be able to find the ingredients!"

Willow whirled around and slammed the jar down on the counter so hard she nearly broke it. "Tara, I can't just leave them there!"

"You can't talk her out of something when she's got her resolve face on," Xander said.

Tara shook her head sadly. "That's not her resolve face. That's her desperation face."

"I think you're all forgetting something,” Anya said. "You can't take anything with you, and you can't bring anything back. The whole point of this was to get the Asirra crystal."

Willow glared at her. "Right now, it's more important to get Buffy!"

Xander stepped between them, putting his hand on Anya's shoulder and speaking to Willow as gently as he could. "I agree with you. But Buffy won't think so."

"They're right," Giles said, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "As much as it pains me to say that. We'll have to look for another way to bring them back, one that will also secure the Asirra crystal.”

“But Giles...”

“Willow. Right now you are the greatest weapon we have against Glory. We have to protect Dawn, and we cannot afford to lose you too.”

Willow nodded, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I guess you’re right.”

“And in the meantime, perhaps the two of them will figure something out. Buffy is smart and capable and Spike is nothing if not...resourceful. It is entirely possible that they will get out of this predicament on their own."

Willow took a deep breath. "You really think so?"

He smiled reassuringly at her. "Of course."

"I'll start researching other spells," Tara said, putting her arm around Willow's shoulders.

"Me too," Willow said in a small voice.

"I'll, um...go out for pizza?" Xander offered.

Tara smiled at him. "Hey, you can't research on an empty stomach, right?"

Anya followed Giles out of the room and perched on the arm of the sofa. She waited patiently until he gave her his attention. "What is it, Anya?"

"Do you really believe they can get back on their own?" she asked, whispering so the others in the kitchen wouldn‘t hear.

"What do you think?" He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well," she mused, "it seems to me that...you must think things are pretty grim if you’ve resorted to complimenting Spike."

Giles gave a short, humorless laugh. "Desperate times..." he said with a sigh.

***

Giles, or at least the young, leather jackety, dangerous, Ripper version of Giles, sauntered into the room as if holding a slayer and vampire captive in the basement was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. She felt a little sick to her stomach.

"So," he said, stepping closer and lighting a cigarette. "What's your story, pet? Reckon it’s a good one.”

“We told you. We’re here to buy something from Toby. That’s it.”

“That’s it, eh?” His eyes glinted with amusement.

“Why else would we be here?”

“Now, see, that’s the question. I’ve sussed out the basics. You're a slayer. He’s a vampire. And just that fact is interestin‘ all on its own. Ethan stumbled across you with one of his locator spells. He was looking for magical beings to play with and there you were.”

“Play with?” The sick feeling in her stomach increased. “What does he want with us?”

He shrugged. “What does he ever want? Chaos. Mayhem. Not like he has a grand plan or anything. Bit of a short attention span.”

“Then why do you hang out with him?”

He shrugged. “It’s fun?”

“Look,” Buffy started to say, “we have money, and if you let us go...”

He held up his hand to stop her. “Not so fast, ducks. I’ll be needin’ some information, first.”

“Like what?” Spike asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Like who the bloody hell are you, for starters! Well, I know who you are,” he amended, pointing his cigarette at Spike. “You’re William the Bloody, better known as Spike. Looked you up. You‘ve got quite the reputation."

Spike puffed up a little next to her, and she was tempted to punch him in the nose, but she refrained.

“And you’re a slayer," he said to Buffy, getting as close to the magical barrier as he could. "But you’re not THE Slayer." He took a drag on his cigarette, smiling in satisfaction at the looks on their faces. "Ethan doesn't know that. Yet."

"Why haven't you told him?" Buffy asked, trying her best to look unaffected as her heart beat a million miles a minute.

"Because he likes knowing something his good mate doesn't. Might given you an edge someday, eh Ripper?" Spike patted his pockets again and frowned when he still came up empty.

Ripper shrugged. "Might. Current slayer, she lives in New York City." He smiled. "And she looks nothing like you, love." He took another drag on his cigarette, and blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth. It swirled up against the magical barrier, but didn't cross it. "So, how could we end up with two slayers at the same time?” he mused. “I'm thinkin'...time travel. Especially since the two of you were covered in so much magic you practically glowed in the bloody dark.”

Buffy couldn’t believe it, though on second thought she didn’t know why she was so surprised. This was Giles, after all. This was the first time she’d ever found herself wishing he wasn’t so smart.

At Buffy’s expression, he grinned. “Got it in one, how about that? So who sent you here pet? And why?"

She shot a look in Spike‘s direction, and with an almost imperceptible nod of his head, she knew he'd follow her lead, whatever she decided to do. "My watcher sent me," she said. "He's an old friend of Toby's, and I'm here to buy something from him, just like I said. It could help us fight a hell god."

Ripper shook another cigarette out of his pack. "And who's your watcher? Might know the poor sod."

Buffy took a deep breath. "You are."


	6. Better Late Than Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Buffy travel back to 1976 London to retrieve a magical artifact that may stop Glory.

For the first time since she'd met this new-and-not-improved, Ripper-version of Giles, his casual confidence faltered. Eyes narrowed, he threw his cigarette to the ground.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Buffy mustered all the false bravado she could manage. Everything - her sister's life - depended on her ability to make him believe her, but she had a feeling that sweet-talking and tears wouldn't work. "I think I made that pretty clear. You - Rupert Giles - are my watcher. And not to inflate your already huge ego, but a darn good one, too."

His nostrils flared. "Nice try, ducks, but that's impossible."

"Why?"

"Because I decided a long time ago that there was no way in Hell that I was going to go into the family business, no matter what dear old dad thinks!"

"Oh, that's right! Third generation, aren't you?" She felt a surge of confidence at his surprised expression. "Look, I realize you're in the middle of your rebellious period right now. I totally get it, believe me. But you _will_ change your mind and eventually you'll become a watcher. _My_ watcher."

Ripper stepped closer, coming as near to the magical barrier as he could without bumping up against it, and she had to force herself not to take a step back. "Yeah?" He smiled, coldly. "Prove it."

Buffy took a deep breath and glanced at Spike, who was gazing at her coolly from beneath those dark brows like she actually knew what she was doing. Which she so didn't - because if she did she would have anticipated having to ‘prove it.’ But she did feel a little calmer now, and an actual idea came into her head.

"Does the mark of Eyghon ring any bells?"

She almost smiled at the startled look on his face. "How do you know about _that_?!"

"Because _you_ told me. Because something terrible happened and I needed to know. Because you're my watcher and I'm your Slayer. And your friend."

He took a good long look at her. She was getting through to him, she could feel it.

And then he laughed in her face.

"Not bloody likely."

And with that he was gone, and all her hopes along with him. She banged both of her fists against the invisible wall, grimacing and savoring the pain that traveled up her arms.

"Slayer?"

"I shouldn't have said anything," she said. "It didn't work, and I might have messed everything up! I might have screwed up the space-time continue-thingy or something!"

Spike approached her carefully and laid his hand on her shoulder. "You took a calculated risk. Might not have paid off this time, but you wouldn't be Buffy if you hadn't gone for it."

"I hate being Buffy sometimes."

Spike squeezed her shoulder, and she leaned into his touch. Just a little. Hey, her life sucked; she was allowed.

"So. What's our next move, Slayer?"

She blinked back tears. "I think we have to use the spell and go back. I don't know what else to do. I sure don't want to be Giles and Ethan's chew toy, especially now that I've really pissed off Ripper. We'll go back and regroup. Figure out what to do."

Spike nodded and reached into his inside pocket - and came up empty. A look of panic crossed his face as he checked the other side of his jacket, then his outside pockets.

"Spike..."

Spike frantically searched his jean pockets.

"Spike. Where is the spell? And the powder? Don't tell me you lost them!"

Spike sighed heavily. "Bugger."

***

"So - where did you say Giles went again?" Xander opened the pizza box and grabbed another slice of pepperoni.

"He said he had an errand to run." Willow picked the cheese off of her slice and made a little cheese mountain on the side of her plate. "But actually, I think I drove him away with my stressed outed-ness. Even 7-Eleven is more appealing than hanging around me- because you know how he loves those 'bloody convenience stores.'"

"Maybe he has a secret Slurpee addiction," Xander offered.

"I don't think he ran out to get milk and bread, sweetie," Tara said gently. She smiled at Xander. "Or a Slurpee. But I'm sure wherever he went, it has something to do with getting Buffy and Spike back. Something that could help us."

"If you call using the darkest magicks helpful, then yeah," Anya said. She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin before realizing that everyone was staring at her. "What?"

"Darkest magicks?" Dawn asked. "What does that mean, exactly?"

Anya sighed. "He has a book...one that used to belong to that old friend of his. You know...the troublemaker?"

"The...who? You mean Ethan Rayne, evil mastermind? _Troublemaker_ is how you describe him?" Willow shook her head.

"He's more annoying than evil, don't you think?" She shrugged. "I've seen worse. Anyway, Giles has this scary book hidden away at the Magic Box somewhere so he went to find it."

"And he told you instead of the rest of us, why, honey?"

"Because he wanted someone to know where he'd gone in case of an emergency, and I'm the only one who wasn't completely freaking out. And you'd gone out for pizza," she said, patting Xander's arm.

Dawn picked up her slice - extra anchovies - and gestured toward Anya. "You know, she's got a point there."

***

Spike put his hands up in self-defense. "Slayer, I swear..."

"You lost it. You lost our only way home. So now I'm stuck here. In a magical cage. With you! I ought to stake you..." She reached for the stake tucked into her waistband - not that she would have used it, but a nice threatening was good for him once in awhile.

But the stake was gone.

"Hey, wait a minute! Where's my stake?"

Spike crossed his arms over his chest, a look of realization coming over his face. "Same place my lighter and fags are, most likely."

Buffy reached down into her boot, but came up empty. "And my knife. Dammit! Did Giles and Ethan take them while we were knocked out?"

"Don't think so. Don't think they came along for the ride. Been lookin' for my smokes since we got here." He shook his head. "And you were going to stake me."

"Yeah right. Just like all the other times I was going to stake you." He smiled at that, and she tried to ignore the way his eyes lit up when he did. "Stop smiling. We're doomed, remember?"

Spike shrugged. "Been doomed before, haven't we?"

Buffy nodded. "Okay, good point. What we need now is a plan."

"Stompy boots?" Spike suggested. “More of a recycled plan...”

"They said the walls were too thick."

"They coulda been lyin'."

"Another good point."

"Wow, two in one day. A new record. 'Course, one in any number of days would be a new record..."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Enough already. You have a good idea occasionally. I can admit that." Spike raised an eyebrow at her and she shoved him closer to the wall. "Come on. Let's get stompy."

On the count of three they raised their twin stompy boots and let the brick wall have it.

And the wall let them have it back.

Buffy bent down and rubbed at her ankle. "So. Ow?"

Spike nodded. "Ow. No way we're bustin' through that thing."

"I'm taking away one of your 'good point' points.” She brushed the rat’s nest that was her hair out of her eyes. “What'll we do now?"

Before Spike could answer, a slimy voice from behind her made her whirl around, immediately assuming a fighting stance.

"Oh, I have a few ideas." Ethan Rayne stood in the middle of the room, holding a leather bag containing lots of nothing good, she was sure. Ripper stood right behind him, an inscrutable expression on his face.

Ethan grinned, and a chill went down her spine. “Don't worry. You won't be bored. It's party time." Whatever he had in mind, he was really planning to enjoy it.


	7. Better Late Than Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Buffy travel back to 1976 London to retrieve a magical artifact that may stop Glory.

Ethan set the bag down on the floor and unzipped it - slowly, for effect. Buffy rolled her eyes. Melodramatic, much?

"What do you think, Ripper? Should we go the mystical route?" he asked. He pulled out a velvet pouch and shook some shimmering powder into his hand. "It might be bit of a lark to turn the Slayer into a demon. The hunter becomes the hunted? Or..." He put the bag away and pulled out a large pair of pliers. "We could get a little more...physical." He glanced in Giles' direction. "That's more your style, isn't it? And I've always wondered, if you pull out a vampire's fangs, would they grow back?"

Buffy's hands twitched at her sides. She could feel Spike beside her, unconsciously mimicking her posture, ready to fight at a moments' notice. Despite the adrenaline rushing through her body, she attempted to sound like the calm, cool, collected Buffy she wished that she was, forcing herself to relax and take a more nonchalant stance.

"If you think you're going to scare William the Bloody with some hardware you picked up at Home Depot," Buffy said...

She glanced at Spike, who rolled his shoulders and grinned as he shifted into game face. "You got another think comin', mate."

Ethan's brow furrowed. "What is 'Home Depot'?" he asked Giles.

"How the hell should I know? Something... _American,_ no doubt," Giles replied, his tone indicating that just speaking the word might make him physically ill.

"Yes of course. No matter. Well what'll it be, Ripper? We haven't got all night! Toby returns tomorrow, and we need to leave time to clean up the blood, after all."

Giles stared into the leather bag, contemplating his options. "Pliers, I reckon." He nodded as Ethan handed them over. "Yes," he said, weighing them in his hand. "Definitely pliers."

Ethan turned back toward them, smiling in that smug way of his that always made Buffy want to punch his lights out. Every. Single. Time.

"You know, I've always wondered Spike...if you punched a two-bit, amateur magician's teeth out, would they grow back?"

Spike chuckled, low in his throat. “Love to rip his head off,” he said, under his breath.

“Love to let you,” she replied.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "I think it's time we got started, don't you Ripper?"

"I do," he said. And then he raised the pliers in his hand and whacked Ethan in the head with them.

"You're right, mate," he said. "Much more my style."

Ethan had time to give Giles one rather indignant look before he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

***

The barrage of questions he was inundated with as soon as he walked through the door continued to grow more insistent - and louder - as time went on. Willow was in favor of using the spell. Anya cautioned against it. Tara and Xander tried to play referee, though considering the noise level, that might have gone better for them if they'd had a bloody whistle. In fact, they all got so caught up in their discussion that they didn't even notice him grab the book, get up and leave the room. He stood at the kitchen sink, staring out into the yard, willing Buffy and Spike and their ridiculous outfits to reappear. It didn't work.

"Are you okay, Giles?" Dawn asked.

"I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition," he murmured.

"Huh?"

He turned and smiled wearily at her. "Never mind, dear. I'm fine," he said, pulling himself up straighter and giving her his full attention. It seemed they'd all nearly forgotten that this was supposed to be about protecting her. "How are you doing?"

Dawn shrugged. "I don't know. Scared, I guess." She glanced worriedly at the book he was holding. "Do you think that will help?"

Giles turned the thick volume in his hands and ran his fingers over the leather cover. It was embossed with symbols he wished he didn't know the meaning of, some of them worn almost smooth, but still there. Seeing them brought back so many regrets, but he couldn't deny their seductive power, either. It's why he'd kept the book well-hidden - but hadn't had the heart to destroy it. But how much should he tell Dawn? He looked into her face, eyes huge with worry, and decided she had as much right to know as anyone. More, perhaps.

"There is a spell in here, a time travel spell, that might be able to bring them back. But it's very dangerous."

Dawn gripped the back of a kitchen chair. "How dangerous? Like, end up in the Ice Age or living with dinosaurs dangerous?"

"No," Giles said, shaking his head. "Like, end up dead, dangerous."

***

After murmuring a few words in Latin, Ripper motioned them to move forward, and Buffy stuck her hand out cautiously to find the barrier gone. She rushed forward, about to throw her arms around him, but he held up his hands in protest. She settled for a dazzling smile.

"I knew my Giles was in there somewhere!"

"Yeah. Knew you had it in you, mate," Spike said with a grin.

Ripper gave them a withering look. "Oh, do shut up, the both of you, before I hit you with the pliers, too. I'm no white knight, so save your praise for someone who gives a damn."

Buffy's smile faded. "So, why did you rescue us, then?"

"Certainly not because I long to become your sodding Watcher, so put that thought right out of your pretty little head." He threw the pliers into the bag, zipped it up and threw it over his shoulder.

"Well? Which is it?" Buffy asked. "Ulterior motive or sudden onset of conscience?"

"Neither. I did it because Ethan is an idiot," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "This is his idea of fun? God. I've never found shooting fish in a barrel to be much sport." He shrugged. "Anyway, finding a way to get you two imbeciles home and as far away from me as possible is bound to be more interesting."

"Yes, because torture is so boring," Buffy said.

"I always thought so," Spike said. "Although, there was this one time..."

"Quit while you're ahead, Spike."

"Right, right," he said, managing to somehow look sheepish through his fangs. "So, you were eavesdropping, eh Rupert? Know about our little transportation problems?"

"Of course. And believe me, I'm as anxious for you to leave as you are."

Buffy stepped forward. "We're not leaving without that crystal."

"Sorry. Don't know where it is."

Spike stepped up behind her. "Oh I think you bloody well do, and you heard the lady - we're not leaving without it. So you can go ahead and give it to us, or..."

Giles turned slowly and stared Spike down, clearly not intimidated. "Or what?"

Spike grinned, shaking off his game face. "Or we'll stick around and annoy you until you do."

"Seriously, he can be very annoying," Buffy agreed.

Giles closed his eyes. "Bugger."


	8. Better Late Than Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Buffy travel back to 1976 London to retrieve a magical artifact that may stop Glory.

Buffy realized as they stepped out into the damp London night that they must have been held captive for at least twenty four hours. It was dark again, and the main street, once they stepped out of the alley, was again teeming with people. Spike offered his arm to her almost unconsciously, and she took it, smiling inwardly at those Victorian manners that he could never seem to shake. It was all part of playing the role of happy little punk couple, after all. Just doing her job.

"Where are we going again?"

"The 100 Club," Spike said, and she could hear the excitement in his voice. "Been around since the 40's. They have the best live music around. Or used to have. Or do, now..." He scratched his head. "This time travel thing is confusing."

"Tell me about it."

He steered her around a broken beer bottle on the sidewalk, which would have been no match for her stompy boots, but was kind of sweet anyway.

"So, tell me, love - what makes you think your juvenile delinquent of a watcher wasn't pullin' our chain, telling us to meet him there? Maybe he'll just ditch us and we'll be back to square one. Or worse."

"Nah - we're a project, now."

"A what?"

"We're a project, and he can't _not_ complete a project, even if he is sort of semi-bad and twisted right now. It's hard wired. Rupert. Giles. Must. Complete. Project. We're like...a magical term paper."

Spike laughed, and she looked up at him, her breath catching at the adoring look in his eyes as he gazed down at her. She shouldn't be encouraging this. She really shouldn't. It wasn't fair to him. And yet, she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away or keep herself from returning his smile.

Which was probably why she ran right into some tattooed, pink-haired girl who was standing in the middle of the sidewalk like she owned it.

"Hey! Watch where the hell you're going, you stupid bint!" the girl yelled.

"You watch your mouth," Spike growled at her, showing a quick flash of fang. To her credit the girl didn't back down. She just crossed her arms over her chest and looked Buffy up and down.

"Nice hair," she said, and the group of kids with her burst out laughing.

Thankfully, Spike dragged her away before she could seriously hurt them.

***

"What do you mean, are we going to do it? Of course we're going to do it. Why are we still wasting time talking about it when we've finally found a way to get Buffy and Spike back?" Willow was clutching Giles’ book in her hands so hard that her knuckles were turning white.

"She's got a point." Xander patted her arm, and Willow relaxed a little. "I mean, what's the alternative? Just leave them there?"

Anya shrugged. "The 70's weren't so bad. Too much polyester, but other than that, they were kind of fun."

Xander gave her a nervous smile. "The things I'm afraid to ask."

They all started talking at once again, and Giles held up his hand for quiet. It didn't work. Amidst this kind of chaos, only one thing would.

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

Everyone stared at Dawn.

"Thank you," she said. Her hands twisted nervously in her lap. "I have something to say." She glanced at Giles, who nodded reassuringly. I don't think we should do it."

"Dawnie, it's okay. We know you're scared..." Willow reached for her hand, but Dawn pulled hers away.

"Don't call me that. Please don't call me that if it's just so you can make me seem like a little kid. I know I'm the youngest one, but _I'm_ Buffy's sister. And I'm the one that this is all about." She took a deep breath. "And I don't think we should risk it. I'd rather know that she and Spike are alive, even if I can't be with them, than risk their lives."

"Thank you, Dawn." Giles removed his glasses and set them on the dining room table. "You have a very valid point. Even if Buffy and Spike can't return, they are still, presumably, alive, and this spell carries a significant risk. And if it weren't for Glory, I would suggest perhaps taking more time to discover an alternative. Unfortunately," he said, and Dawn's face fell, "there _is_ Glory to consider. And time is what we don't have. Therefore I must agree with Willow that we have to risk retrieving Buffy and Spike through the use of this spell."

Willow sighed in relief. "Thank you, Giles."

"But I will perform it," he said.

Willow's expression changed from excited to disappointed in a flash.

"What? Why?"

"I have experience with this type of dark magic. It's dangerous and I don't want you exposed to it."

"But Giles," Willow began.

Xander interrupted her. "I think we've all seen just how dangerous it can be. Ethan Rayne, anybody? Ergo, I'm with Giles - let him do it." Willow glared at him and he shrugged. "Call 'em like I see 'em. Sorry, Will."

Tara squeezed Willow's shoulder. "Me too, sweetie. It think Giles should do the spell. I don‘t want anything to happen to you. And he has the experience you don‘t." Willow's lower lip started to tremble, and she got up and left the room, Tara trailing after her.

"Hey Giles, have you ever done this exact spell before?" Dawn asked.

Giles felt a little tingle at the back of his neck, and suddenly - inexplicably - wasn't sure how to answer. Of course he hadn’t done this exact spell before. Had he? "Not...not exactly."

***

"Put me down! Spike! Put me down before I seriously hurt you!"

"Not till you calm down."

Of course, she could deck him if she wanted to. She was stronger than him. Strangely, she didn't want to. She relaxed in is arms. His very nice, muscular arms. "Okay, I'm calm. See? Cool, calm and collected. Cool as a cucumber, that's me."

Spike narrowed his eyes. "Calm as the eye of a storm, more like." But he did set her down on the sidewalk. "Sorry about what that bitch said, Buffy..."

"Oh, I am so over that," she said, trying to smooth the rat's nest that was her hair down with her hands. But when Spike lifted her chin, she couldn't hide the tears in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey," Spike said, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "It's not that bad. We can fix your hair up right nice."

Buffy slapped him in the chest. "Do you really think I'm crying over my hair, you idiot!"

"No," he said patiently. "Think your upset because we're stuck in the past with no way home and you’re worried about Dawn, as am I. But we'll focus on the hair because we can actually do somethin‘ about that."

Of course he was right, and she decided to go with it. "And what credentials do you have to do women's hair, Vidal?"

Spike smiled. "A hundred years with a woman who couldn't see herself in a mirror."

Well, who could argue with that? Drusilla _had_ always looked fabulous. Evil and crazy, but fabulous.

"Okay," Buffy said. "But don't think you're getting a tip."


	9. Better Late Than Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Buffy travel back to 1976 London to retrieve a magical artifact that may stop Glory.

The next a time some girl said "nice hair," to her, Buffy and Spike were walking into The 100 Club, and Buffy's fists clenched at her sides even as she felt her face heating up.

"She means it this time, pet," Spike whispered in her ear, lips brushing against her skin because it was so loud in there that he had to lean in close for her to hear him. Goosebumps broke out on her skin, and she should have punched him for that. She didn't even pull away.

Buffy hadn't actually seen her hair yet, just its very tall silhouette reflected in a shop window, so she ducked into the ladies' room to check it out. Spike had borrowed some hairpins from a woman who'd been walking by. She'd dug them out of her purse while Spike flirted and charmed her shamelessly and Buffy fumed next to him. Not because she was jealous. Because of...something else she would think of any moment now. But then the woman had left, and his hands were in Buffy's hair, surprisingly gentle as he pulled and pinned it into shape. In any case, it had really been worth it. She smiled at herself in the mirror, and a tough, cool, punk chick with awesome hair smiled back at her.

When she came back out, she found Spike lounging against the wall outside the rest room, listening to the band and scanning the crowd with a look of intense concentration on his face. A gaggle of girls stood in front of her, openly admiring him, and for a moment she was one of them. Seeing him as they must see him - all strong profile and sexy slouch. He turned his head and looked straight at her as if he sensed her presence, and she flushed at being caught staring. And the fact that he looked right past all those girls to find her was kind of blush-inducing, too.

"You invented the faux hawk," Buffy said, sidling up to him. Or, actually, shouted to be heard above the so-called music.

He grinned. "You look amazing, if I do say so myself."

"You like this band?" she asked. God, she was making small talk.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "This 'band' is _The Clash_ , Buffy. Never thought I'd see 'em live again," he said with a grin.

Wow. Even she had heard of The Clash. But it still sounded like noise to her. "Are they going to play that Rock the whatever song?"

He laughed. "That comes later."

A new song started up, and Buffy cringed. "I can't believe you like this stuff. They call this noise, music?"

Spike began to chuckle, and she frowned at him. "What's so funny?"

"Never would know that _I'm_ the one who's a century old."

She ducked her head to hide a smile. That really _was_ something her mother might have said. "Oh...shut up."

"Good come back."

"Have you scoped the place out?" she asked, hurriedly changing the subject.

Spike nodded. "No sign of him yet. I'm sure he'll show soon, though, Buffy."

She wasn't actually so sure, but she appreciated Spike trying to reassure her. "So what should we do till then?"

Spike took her hand and began dragging her towards the stage. "Enjoy this noise they call music."

***

Giles had decided to perform the spell in the Magic Box. He had most of the supplies he needed there, and he could also do it alone without the rest of them hovering over him. This would go a long way in minimizing the danger to them - and an even longer way in minimizing his irritation _with_ them. Their constant bickering and questioning his every move was driving him around the bloody bend.

And the worst of it was, he wasn't at all sure that the spell would work. Ideally, he should be using the blood of the individuals involved, and of course he didn't have that. Instead, he was using hair obtained from Buffy's and Spike's combs. It would have to do.

Giles reviewed the spell one last time. He'd assembled all of the necessary ingredients already, and now he went about setting them up on the table in the proper configuration. Candles, a ceramic bowl in which he placed the hair, and a few other things that he tried not to think too much about, ingredients he'd bought on the black market and had locked away for a very long time.

He lit a match, but hesitated as he went to light the candle. Something wasn’t right.

***

The music throbbed with an energy and intensity she hadn't experienced before. Even though it wasn't really her scene, Buffy had to admit she got caught up in it, her hips unconsciously moving to the rhythm.

The crowd surged forward, and Spike, who had placed her in front of him so she could see, was pressed up against her, his front to her back. Neither of them could move, other than swaying along with the crowd that surrounded them. She felt him, strong and solid behind her. He set his hands lightly on her shoulders, which felt really nice. And wrong. It was very wrong and she would tell him so if the music wasn't so loud. The song ended and the band announced they were taking a break, and as the crowd thinned, Buffy turned around within the circle of Spike's arms, looking up into his hopeful face.

"Well, isn't this right cozy?" Ripper stood there grinning at them, his arm slung casually around the shoulders of a dark haired, pixie of a girl with huge, green eyes.

Buffy jumped away from Spike in surprise, and Spike snarled at Giles.

"Anyone ever tell you, you have lousy timing?"

"Don't mind me, mate. Just here to perform a little time travel spell, but if you‘d rather stick around, have at it." He looked from Buffy to Spike and back again. "Can see where it might work to your advantage," he said.

"Who's your friend?" Buffy asked.

"Ah, don't worry. This is Deirdre. She‘s alright." Buffy's expression must have telegraphed her recognition of the name, because his eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Nothing. It’s just...you've mentioned her before," Buffy said, leaving out the part that it was after she was dead. The girl grinned up at Giles.

"Aw, aren't you sweet, Ripper," she teased.

He held Buffy's gaze for a moment, and his arm tightened around the girl.

"I'm assuming you brought the pretty little bird as more than arm candy, mate?" Spike said.

"You want a spell cast, I'm your girl," she said.

"And you have the crystal?" Spike asked.

"We have everything you need, baby," Deirdre said with a wink.

"So, what are we waiting for!" Buffy said.

Ripper shrugged. "Thought we'd listen to the last set."

"You have so got to be kidding me. Spike..." She looked to Spike for support and found him looking longingly at the stage as the band members picked up their instruments.

"It _is_ the Clash, love."

"Spike..."

He cleared his throat. "Right you are. Let's get this show on the road!"

Ripper glanced at him in disgust. “My God, you're whipped.”

Spike just sighed. “Don’t I know it.”


	10. Better Late Than Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Buffy travel back to 1976 London to retrieve a magical artifact that may stop Glory.

Ripper and Deirdre led them to a basement apartment that smelled like the incense her mother used to burn when she'd had one drink too many and was feeling nostalgic. Underlying that was the scent of herbs and magic that reminded Buffy suddenly of Willow, and she had to blink back the tears that stung her eyes. Even as Deidre set up candles and poured out spell ingredients that Buffy would rather know as little about as possible, she wondered if this would work. She wondered if they would end up dead - or even worse. She looked over at Spike and saw that he looked as nervous as she felt. He hated all this magic stuff. And he'd done it all for her, for her and Dawn.

He smiled nervously at her. "Got a hold of that crystal, pet?"

Buffy held out the Asirra crystal that Giles (he was being a little more Giles-like right now, after all) had given her. It looked like a large, oval diamond, though it was aquamarine in color. She could feel its power, humming with magic in the palm of her hand.

"Where the crystal goes, so goes Buffy," she said.

"And where Buffy goes..." Spike said with a wink and the lump in her throat grew bigger.

"Spike..." she said, and then her mind went blank. But as usual he seemed to know what she was thinking.

"Would do it again in a heartbeat," he said.

"Yeah," she said, smiling in spite of the situation. "I know you would."

It was then that Deirdre called them over to the table she'd set up, instructing them to hold their hands over the glass bowl in the center.

"Spike, can you carry the crystal? Still pocket-challenged here," Buffy said. And though she didn't look at him, she could feel his eyes on her.

"You sure, Slayer?"

She took a breath, tucking the crystal into to his inside jacket pocket. "Of course. I trust you."

She did sneak a glance now, and he didn't have to say anything for her to see what those words meant to him. And the truth was, she meant it. She trusted him with her life, and with Dawn's. Maybe nobody else's, but that didn't seem to matter so much to her right now.

"So, what do we do," she asked Deirdre. "Do I have to click my heels together three times, or what?"

"If only. The both of you need to hold your left hands over the bowl," Deirdre said. She held an intricately carved dagger in her hand. "This is a blood spell, but I'll try to make it as quick and painless and I can."

"Wait..." Ripper said.

He pulled Buffy aside while Spike and Deirdre looked on in confusion.

"How did you know who Deirdre was?" he whispered. "What happened that you would know about her?" He gripped her forearm, hard, his brow creased with worry.

"The Mark of Eyghon?" she said. "You haven't done it yet, have you?"

He blanched. "How the bloody hell do you know about that?"

She grabbed his arm and pushed up his sleeve, sighing with relief when she saw that he was still unmarked. But she hesitated. She remembered Giles' warning about not doing anything to change history. Then again, when had she ever followed the rules? Hey, it had worked out okay for her, so far.

"I know all about what you're planning to do," she whispered. "Don't. Don't do it. Don't let _any_ of them do it. Your friends will die." She looked back at Deirdre. "If you care about them, about her..."

"Hey Ripper, do I need to be jealous?" Deirdre teased.

"Certainly not!" he answered, sounding so much like her Giles that Buffy had to smile.

Ripper released her, and she walked back to the table. "So, what are the chances that this spell will work the way it's supposed to?" Buffy asked Deirdre.

She glanced at Ripper, and he nodded.

"I really have no idea. I'm sorry, I wish I could give you odds..."

"Can we say 50/50?" Buffy asked.

"Sure!" Deirdre said, her smile falsely bright. "Let's go with that!"

Buffy took a deep breath. "That good, huh? Okay, then." And then she took Spike's face in her hands and kissed him.

He was almost too surprised to respond. Almost.

"Aww..." Deirdre said as they reluctantly pulled away from each other. "A slayer and a vampire! That's kind of poetic, don't you think, Ripper?"

Ripper rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, very romantic. Can we do the bloody spell, now?"

"We're ready," Buffy said.

She and Spike held their hands out over the bowl, and Deirdre began reciting from her spell book.

***

It wasn't as if Giles didn't expect it, but the cacophony of sound that greeted his arrival at the Summers' house was truly awe inspiring. If Pink Floyd hadn't already damaged his hearing, they certainly would have.

He waited patiently until they quieted down to a low roar, and then turned to Dawn.

"One at a time! Dawn, you first, dear."

"Did you do the spell? Did it work? Where are Buffy and Spike?"

Giles carefully considered the best way to answer that question. "Er...the spell was performed. As for whether it worked or not, we'll have to wait and see."

"Wait, why? Shouldn't they have just showed up, *poof* in front of you?" Xander asked.

"Yes. That's the way it _should_ have worked," Willow said. He could hear the accusation in her voice.

"Willow, the amount you don't know about magic could fill a bloody ocean!" he snapped. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose as they all stared at him in shock, silent now. "I'm sorry, but this has been a very long day. And time travel spells are quite tricky. We'll just have to wait and see. And not give up hope."

He turned away from them as they all began chattering again.

"Dear lord - and Deirdre - " he said under his breath, "I hope we knew what we were doing back then."

There was a loud bang from the back of the house about then, and they all rushed into the kitchen to see Spike come tumbling through the back door, hair on fire as Buffy batted out the flames with her hands.

"Sodding hell," Spike said, slightly singed but otherwise none the worse for wear. "Coulda picked a better time and place than the middle of the bloody garden at high noon, doncha think? Vampire, here!" He smiled as Dawn launched herself into Buffy's arms, and then hooked an arm around his neck to bring him in for a hug, too.

"You're home!" Dawn said. "We were so worried about you guys! What happened?"

"That is...a very long story," Buffy said, "which we will explain to you all soon enough. But we've got a hell god's ass to kick first."

"Right you are," Spike said, pulling the crystal out of his pocket and handing it to Giles.

"Oh, come on!" Xander said, "you can't leave us in suspense like that, Buff!"

"Yes," Anya said. "I imagine it's a _very_ interesting story if Buffy doesn't want to talk about it."

"I'm sure Buffy will tell us all about it when she's ready! We've got more important things to do, now, like fight Glory," she scolded Anya. Then she beamed at Buffy. "Oh, but your hair looks fantastic!"

Tara laughed. "Your hair does look great. But the...the important thing is that you're both back, safe and sound," she said.

"Yeah," Buffy said, catching Spike's eyes and smiling. "Better late than never."


	11. Better Late Than Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Buffy travel back to 1976 London to retrieve a magical artifact that may stop Glory.

In the battle against Glory, they all made it out alive - except Glory. The Asirra crystal worked it's magic, but not before some damage was done. Spike caught the brunt of it, of course. A vampire with a hero complex was a dust bunny waiting to happen. But he was more or less okay, if a little banged up. Okay, a lot banged up. Buffy made sure he was taken care of, though. Blood and smokes and company were provided by Dawn, Tara, Willow, and even Xander. By everyone, pretty much, except her.

"Slayer? Surprised to see you slummin' it." Spike rose up out of his comfy chair in the crypt, limping just slightly, the cuts and bruises on his face nearly healed.

Buffy tried to smile and held out a brown paper bag. "I'm your delivery person of the day."

"Ta," he said, taking the bag from her. "But really not necessary. Told the Nibblet yesterday I could handle things on my own from now on."

"I know. She told me."

He was placing the bag in the fridge and turned his head a bit too quickly toward her, wincing and grabbing his neck in pain. "So, to what to I owe the pleasure?"

"I just, I thought we should talk. About, you know..."

"The fact that you kissed me?"

"Well, yeah. That."

He closed the refrigerator door and came to stand a few feet in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest. "This the part where you tell me it was all a big mistake? You were just grateful to me and afraid we were going to die and all that? You can save it. Already sussed that part out."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "You think you have it all figured out, huh? Well, bully for you then!"

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Did you just say, _bully for me?_ "

"Look, this is very weird on so many levels, I realize that. But I came to invite you over to the house tonight. We're having a party."

The corner of his mouth quirked up, as if he was holding back a smile. "Coulda sent one a your lackeys by to do that."

"Yes. I mean, they aren't my lackeys! But yes I could have done that. And yet here I am."

He took a step closer. "You asking me out on a date, Buffy?"

"No. Definitely not asking you out."

He stepped closer still, lips curving up into a smile. She wasn't sure whether to take a step forward or a step back, so she stayed where she was. "I'm not asking you out. I'm asking you...over. To a house full of people. It's all very non-datey."

"Mmmm," he nodded. "Personal invite, though. I'm honored."

"As well you should be."

"Oh, believe me Buffy, I..."

She didn't wait to hear what he had to say, next. She just took his face in her hands, and kissed him. She really needed to stop doing that if she was going to pull off this whole "not a date," thing.

The kiss was over and she was handing him his coat well before he managed to wipe the stunned look off his face.

"Come on, Spike. We're going to be late to the party!"

He blinked. "Party. Right. What's the occasion?" he asked, shrugging into his coat and opening the door for her.

"Deirdre's here. She's come to pay 'an extended visit' to Giles, and he wanted us all to meet her."

"Funny, feel like I already know her," Spike said, as they threaded their way around tombstones.

"Ha, ha."

"So, I guess all in all, you changed history for the better, eh pet?"

"Um..."

He stopped walking and turned toward her. "What?"

"That's the other thing I came to talk to you about. Another reason why Deirdre's here, too, actually."

"You mean she's not here just to get cozy with your Watcher? Don't leave me in suspense, love."

Buffy took a deep breath. "Well, it sort of involves Ethan Rayne. He and Randall..."

"Who's Randall?"

"The really bad guy who would be dead if it wasn't for me?"

"Ah. Well, there's really good people who would be dead if it wasn't for you, too."

"Yeah, I'm trying to keep that in mind as Ethan and Randall plot the imminent destruction of all mankind."

Spike took her hand and tucked it inside his elbow as they began walking again. "Oh, is that all?"

"Well, we'll handle it," she was quick to add.

"Of course we will. After the party." He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

"This still isn't a date, you know."

"'Course not." She could feel him grinning at her, even though she refused to look at him. "Will I get a kiss goodnight, though?"

"Shut up, Spike."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for: dettiot for the Welcome Back to the Hellmouth Ficathon, who requested S/B, humor, season 4 or 5, and Spike introduces Buffy to something from his past (bonus points for Brit pop culture) either through conversation or travel.


End file.
